May 1
Manchester, NH

Lydia grimaced as the picked up the first of the Godiva "Cow-Blood" cordials Harvey had given her. She plopped it down the center of the sink drain, and started the water, and flicked the switch grinding the ludicrous love offering into unidentifiable moosh to be washed into the sewer system.

Harvey.

Harvey, who complemented her on the near-disco decor of her "new place."

The guts of another tortured chocolate splattered the sink as the disposal took it.

Harvey, who sang her a karaoke love song written by the makers of muzak.

The grinding of the disposal became almost music to her -- violent percussion, punctuated by the sound of squooshing chocolates.

Harvey, who brought her flowers and Godiva chocolates having taken the effort to buy Cherry Cordials, remove the cherries, and put in cow's blood -- so she would be able to eat them.

The remainder of the chocolates went one by one to their sewage cemetery, Lydia staring at the drain. After the last was gone, she turned off the disposal and water.

Harvey. A sigh.

A few steps and she was at the stack of CDs. After short search the CD was in the stereo, paused. She laced and rosined her toe shoes and punched the play button. The speakers gave forth the haunting and heart pounding sounds of Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring." Lydia danced.

Lydia danced to the music that had caused one elderly woman at the first performance in France to pound the head of the audience member who sat in front of her with her umbrella through most of the performance. This was anything but muzak. Lydia didn't have to sing "I could have danced all night...."

.... She just did.